Page 106 of Mafia Kings: Valentino

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“I’m very protective of Isabella,” she said coolly.

Her voice was deeper than I would have thought, and kind of raspy. I liked it. A smoker’s voice, though I didn’t picture her as a smoker.

“…uh… okay,” I said, not sure where this was going.

“I just want you to know that if you hurt her…ever…either now or anytime during your marriage…if you hit her, or abuse her emotionally, or demean her in any way… Don Vicari won’t have the chance to do anything to you, because they’ll find you bled out in your bed with your dick cut off.Capiche?”

WHOA.

Normally I would’ve been pissed off at a guy for talking to me like that –

But it was kind of funny coming from a 5’1” girl in an apron.

I grinned in spite of myself. “Is that how Sicilian servants talk to future husbands around here?”

“This isn’t a joke,” Ludavica seethed. “Do noteventhinkof hurting her.”

I put up my hands like she was mugging me, though I couldn’t stop grinning. “I’ll never harm a hair on her head. I swear on my father’s soul.”

Ludavica looked at me distrustfully… then nodded once, like she was satisfied with my answer.

She turned to go –

“Hey, could I ask you a favor?” I asked.

She looked at me warily. “What?”

“Could you grab me one of the books Isabella likes? Maybe that Car person – ”

“Rupi Kaur.”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“You want to read poetry by Rupi Kaur,” she said incredulously.

I shrugged. “Isabella and me don’t really have much in common, so I thought it might be a good start if I read something she liked. You know… so we can talk about it. But don’t tellherabout it. I want to surprise her.”

Ludavica looked at me like I’d just ripped off a disguise I’d been wearing, and she was mildly shocked to see who was really underneath.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she mumbled.

“Thanks.”

Ludavica nodded… looked at me one last time, like I’d pulled off a strange magic trick… and then walked away.

I waited ten minutes for Ludavica to bring the book, but she didn’t show. Guess she had issues slipping it out from under Isabella’s watchful eye.

It was dark outside, but it was stillveryearly – around 9PM.

Since I didn’t have a TV or phone – and no way to entertain myself in my room except for rubbing one out – I started wandering the halls of the house.

The floors were hardwood. They’d been waxed recently, but the wood was scarred and pitted like it had seen a lot of wear over God knows how many years.

The walls were a mix of grey stone and white plaster, with exposed wooden beams in all the ceilings. The only pictures on the walls were religious icons and hunting stuff – like a shadowy painting of dead pheasants hanging up in a row.

The furniture was a mixture of patterned cloth and creaky leather upholstery.

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